Bar Talk and Other Stories
by allyg1990
Summary: When Wanda gets a little tipsy, who's going to be there to help her home? Pyro, of course. More drabbles follow. Reviews, including flames, appreciated.
1. Bar Talk

I saw her from across the room, hunched over a drink, her red streaked black hair falling over her eyes. She was drunk; I could see that much- the way she was talking a mile a minute to the bartender, looking down at her sympathetically as she wagged a finger at him, swaying slightly as she did. Then she slammed a couple of bills and a few assorted coins onto the bar, barely managing to stand before toppling to the ground.

I was there to catch her when she fell, flashing my usual manic grin, her face hardening into a familiar scowl when she saw who it was.

"What are _you_ doing here? Did my dear father send you to baby-sit?" She spat, pushing me away and landing with a _thunk_ on my toes, unable to keep balanced. I shook my head, the grin still plastered onto my face.

"Nope. I'm here for the same reason you are, sheila- to get absolutely senselessly drunk. Though you seem to have already accomplished that." I noted, running my eyes over her. She folded her arms stubbornly, looking up at me from where she lay.

"And what are you going to do about it? If I wasn't positive I'd miss, I'd hex you into the opposite wall, but I'm short of cash at the moment and don't want to have to pay." I put my hands on my heart, managing a swooning expression.

"Aw, come on, luv, you know it's because you like me too much." Her eyes widened in shock, then narrowed.

"When hell freezes over, Pyro." She snapped.

"John." I corrected. She looked confused, struggling to get back on her feet.

"What?"

"John." I repeated. "It's my name." She rolled her eyes.

"Ok, _John-_"

"See!" I exclaimed triumphantly. "You _do_ like me. Besides, I'm the only Acolyte you haven't threatened to kill yet."

"If I haven't, it's because I've forgotten. So here it is: Touch me and I'll kill you."

"Aw…" I said mournfully, steadying her as she almost toppled over a second time. She pushed me away, just to fall back towards me. I smirked. "See, you do need me, sheila."

"It's Wanda." She spoke suddenly. I smiled widely.

"See, we're on first name terms now, luv." I stated, completely ignoring the fact that she'd wanted me to use her name instead of any endearment. "That calls for me having to get you to that cockroach infested bungalow you call home." She glared.

"Is this because if my bucket head dad finds out that you left me alone in a bar when I was drunk he'll paper the walls with your guts?" I winced, trying not to think about that.

"No." I replied, cheerful as ever. "I have to start somewhere if you're gonna be _my_ sheila." She growled, her fingers sparking, but didn't release a hex bolt.

"I wouldn't come close after I'm sober again." She warned. I shrugged.

"Too bad. You're going to be seeing a lot of this bloke from now on." She sighed, her frown softening a little.

"Lucky me." I laughed.

"You have no idea." I assured her, and we walked away into the darkness.


	2. The morning after

I woke up the next morning with a killer hangover, feeling less than happy. When I remembered the events of the night before, I just felt even worse.

John- _Pyro,_ I corrected myself firmly, had to bring me up to my room. I had been so drunk that I couldn't even stand by myself, much less function. I was just thankful that he'd laid me down on my bed fully clothed, not taking the opportunity to try and help me change into my pajamas, or anything else, for that matter.

It hurt to sit up, my head throbbing madly, but I forced myself to. _Maybe he isn't so bad._ I quickly dismissed the thought. He worked for my father- he couldn't be all that great a person.

After a lot of effort, including having to crawl across the floor to my bathroom in a very humiliating way, I finally managed to shower and get some clean clothes on. The shower had helped my headache somewhat, so it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be to make myself a cup of black coffee.

A few minutes into it, I heard the door swing open and someone pad in, no doubt one of the brotherhood coming back from getting breakfast. It wasn't my brother; this person's footsteps were way too slow. Not Fred; he lumbered around like an elephant. And definitely not- I shuddered- Toad. Whoever it was walked like a normal human being, not a humanoid amphibian.

_It must be Lance_. I decided, calling out to the rock tumbler.

"Lance! Did you get any doughnuts? After last night I need sugar." There was a pause, and then an indignant voice rang out,

"I'm insulted, Sheila, I thought I was much better looking than that. And no, I haven't got any doughnuts." I groaned, slumping my head onto the rickety kitchen table.

"Not you again." I muttered, groggily looking up. The fiery-haired Aussie had seated himself _on_ the kitchen table, his legs crossed, clicking the lighter in his hand lazily on and off.

"I did warn you that you'd be seeing more of this bloke." He reminded me. I rubbed my head.

"I don't really remember." I admitted. He leant forward, his voice cheerful.

"In any case, I might not have brought doughnuts, but I brought you something better, luv." When he saw that I wasn't about to guess anytime soon, he triumphantly exclaimed, "Chocolate!"

I perked up at this, going as far as to sit up fairly straight as he handed me a bar.

"Maybe I won't hex you into a wall anytime soon." I mumbled, taking a big bite. "At least, not until I've finished this." He beamed.

"This, Sheila, is the start of a beautiful friendship." He proclaimed. I glared at him, putting down the chocolate for a moment.

"When did I mention friendship? I'm just sparing your life at the moment." He shrugged.

"We have to start somewhere, luv." I rolled my eyes.

"When will you get it, _Pyro_? We are _not_ going to be friends. Ever. I don't like you." He pouted.

"I thought you were calling me John, Sheila."

"Not until you call me Wanda." I retorted through another mouthful of chocolate. He crossed his arms.

"Fine by me. In the meantime, _Wanda_, when do you want to do lunch? I found this lovely little place, they have big torches everywhere, and the candles-" He must have noticed the blue light gathering around my fingertips, because he hastily scuttled off the table, landing in a heap on the floor. "What? I was just trying to be friendly!"

I advanced towards him, my hands now encased with the beginning of a hex bolt.

"The best thing you can do for yourself at the moment is to get out of this house." He frowned.

"Where's the fun in that?" He asked huffily, letting out a yell as I forgot my promise not to hex him through a wall. I felt slightly regretful after I'd finished- we'd just had that wall rebuilt.

When he finally stood up, his normally bright orange hair was much paler, on account of the plaster dust caking it. His trademark goggles were slightly askew, and he looked more annoyed than in pain.

"That hurt." He informed me, and I couldn't help but smile. He must have been crazier than I thought.

"You smiled." He continued, and I quickly composed my face into its usual scowl.

"You imagined it, firebug." I replied, turning to walk away. An arm wrapped around my wrist stopped me, and I turned to find him completely latched onto my hand, looking up with a pleading expression.

"Please? It's no fun going alone, and I really want to see those torches…" I sighed, resisting the urge to shake him off.

"Will you get out of the house if I say maybe?" I asked, feeling slightly sorry for the Acolyte. He nodded empathetically.

"Maybe." I said at last. "But only if you don't show up here until I get in touch." He jumped up, pumping my hand up and down.

"You won't see a single hair on this bloke's head." He promised, putting a hand over his heart. "Scout's honor." I looked at him incredulously.

"_You_ were a boy scout?" He shrugged, grinning crookedly up at me.

"Campfires." He explained simply.

"I see." I replied. He then proceeded to rummage around in one pocket of the jeans he was wearing that day, finally extracting a small white card with something scribbled on it.

"That's my contact details." He stated. I stared.

"You live with my father. I already know your address." I pointed out.

"Just in case, Sheila. I wouldn't want you to forget about me." I took the card, twirling it around my fingers.

"I won't. Now get out of my house before I hex you through another wall." He obliged, waving manically before skipping out of the door.

I nearly laughed out loud to myself once he was out of sight. There was no way I'd ever take him up on his offer. I made as if to throw the card away, stopping myself at the last minute.

Who knows? It might come in handy.

_Well, here's drabble number 2. A lot longer than the last one, though I don't like it half as much. Reviews, as always, are much appreciated. Flames will be given to Pyro._

_Allyg1990_


	3. Dinner

It took two weeks for her to call. _Two weeks_. But I kept telling myself that at least she did. After all, late was better than never.

It was always me who answered the phone- Sabertooth was usually out, Magsy wouldn't stoop that low, Petey went back to Russia, and Gambit had done a runner and joined the X-Men. I took his departure the hardest- no more regular explosions meant no more pretty flames. As they say, all work and no flames make John a dull boy.

So I picked it up, the reception crackling violently like it had since Petey stepped on the phone line when he was all metallic. "Hiya, this is Magneto's pizza service, may I take your order?" She answered calmly. Too calmly.

"I'll have a large pizza with chunks of Pyro on it, I'm hungry." I gulped, realizing who it was and switching from crazy to normal mode. Not that my 'normal' mode was very normal, but I'm not the accurate type.

"No can do, Sheila. I wouldn't be able to take you out." I said very seriously. Then, a sudden, unfamiliar wave of panic gripped me and I added, "That _is_ why you're calling?"

I could almost hear her rolling her eyes. "Actually, I wanted to speak to my father. Of course I'm calling about _that_, Mystique hasn't been back in a month and the Brotherhood ran out of cash. I need food enough that I'll even ask _you_ for it." I hitched the phone up higher on my shoulder while taking a marker and writing on the fridge: _Off sick, will be back tomorrow, xxx John_. I stepped back to admire my handiwork, unaware that if I was actually sick, I probably wouldn't be leaving the base.

I realized I hadn't replied to Wanda and spoke up.

"When d'ya want me to come and pick you up?"

"ASAP, I haven't eaten since yesterday." I nodded to myself.

"I'll be over in a jiffy." Then I hung up, forgetting that it was probably rude. No matter. As much as it pained me, flamethrowers weren't allowed where I was going, so my trusty lighter sufficed for now.

She was surprised when she saw me walking up the driveway- I don't think I've moved so fast since Sabertooth last chased me around the base. I think I even saw a flicker of a smile when I handed her the bouquet of wilted daisies I'd picked up on the way. Before she hexed them to a crisp, of course.

"No flowers. This _isn't_ a date." She stressed. I huffed, and then perked up.

"As long as I get to be in your lovely presence, Sheila." I compromised, leading the way. This time I saw her roll her eyes, tramping after me in silence. Well, _she_ was silent- I was clicking my lighter open and closed, open and closed.

She cracked in the end- everyone does. She must have been in a good mood, though, because for once she didn't threaten me.

"How did you get my father to let you out?" she asked, and I forced myself to believe that there was a hint of curiosity there. I grinned at her.

"I chucked a sicky." I replied proudly. Her returning look was blank. I sighed. She couldn't help it that she wasn't Australian. Oh well, nobody's perfect.

"I pretended I was sick." I explained. She wrinkled her eyebrows in confusion.

"Why would you leave the base if you were sick?" My grin returned, wider this time.

"Who knows? Magneto thinks I'm crazy, and that's explanation enough." She snorted.

"He _thinks_ you're crazy?" She asked, astounded. "You've never stopped to think that he could be right?" I shrugged.

"He's wrong about lots of things." I ticked them off on my fingers. "That Apocalypse couldn't beat him, that Piotr wouldn't dare steal back his sister and go back to Russia, that locking you up in that asylum was a good idea-" I stopped abruptly. Well, actually, my mouth was hexed shut, but who needs details?

"Don't mention that." She warned, her voice particularly dangerous. I nodded, and my mouth dropped open again.

"Note to self- never mention insane asylum to Wanda." I muttered under my breath, rubbing my jaw. Then I brightened.

"Come on, it's right over there." I called, skipping away. I was only vaguely aware of her shaking her head at what I assumed was my craziness. In any case, she followed me, and that was when that wild night really began.

_Here's numero 3. Review, please!_

_Allyg1990_


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